Double Blessing
by Latebloomnriter
Summary: Missing scenes connecting "Devil's Blessing" and "Jelly Hoskins' American Dream."


Double Blessing

Follow up to "Devil's Blessing" and prequel to "Jelly Hoskins' American Dream." Includes original dialogue from Sam Roeca.

_"__You down easters wouldn't know a flank from a hindquarter."_

Well, _that_ was a smack to his ego.

It was a painful reminder of how much he had to learn still. Yet hadn't he proved that he could learn the skills essential to being an able rancher? He had pointed out not an hour earlier, correctly, that anyone-including himself-could have roped that steer. While now also capable at many aspects of ranch life, Scott had to admit to himself, after Murdoch's words, that he didn't really know what made some cattle better than others. But he would learn.

Scott started his educational course soon after Murdoch's safe return. He went to one of the back buildings where the steers were slaughtered. Teresa was there, with big José, and they were cutting the remains into smaller pieces.

He had to swallow at that, stifling the gag reflex at the smell of flesh and blood. _This isn't war, this is not human, it's just what we will eat over the next few days._ The reflex faded.

"So, was this a good one? I mean a good example of what we are trying to raise?"

"Sí, this one is good. The patrón, he always wants to make them better." There was another chop to a section of meat. "This will make for good fajitas."

He may as well ask. José held Scott in high regard, having been at Lancer during the last fight with Pardee. José was one on the better people to ask.

"What makes it one of the good ones?"

Teresa stepped forward. "Come with me. I'll show you." She grabbed his hand, and dragged him to one of the pastures close to the house.

"Look there." She pointed to the closest of several cows grazing in the field. "What do you see?"

"A cow." That much was obvious.

"Yes, but look close, what seems different to you from other cows?"

"Ah, she's brown, and has broken white patches."

"And?"

He looked more closely. "She looks a bit thin. Some bones are quite prominent."

"And, what else?"

It was a bit awkward to tell Teresa that the cow seemed quite well endowed. Publicly saying so seemed like something that could get a slap in the face or at least an outraged look or fan fluttering back in Boston. But he was not in Boston, and Teresa was not a fragile flower. "Her.." he gestured with his hands, "seems rather large."

"Udder. She has a big udder!"

"Um, yes. I guess you could say that."

Teresa giggled and took pity on him. "She has a big udder and looks bonier in some places because she's a dairy cow. She's a Guernsey cow, specially bred to give more milk, rather than beef. Cattle used to give both meat and milk, but Murdoch wanted to improve the stock with animals that were better at one more than the other. She has plenty of milk for a calf and us, not like some of the other animals."

Scott's quick mind began putting the pieces together. "So, a good beef animal is heavier, stockier, to carry more meat. And we want them healthier, hence Murdoch's aborted buying trip."

"Yes, but not too stocky, because we have to drive them to market."

That made sense. It also made sense that their cattle could be bred even beefier if the railroad were close and the animals didn't have to walk so far.

"Where is the Delmonico cut from?" This netted a blank stare. Yet another thing to learn. He didn't know which part of the steer, exactly, went into the innumerable variations of beef dishes they ate. How nice it would be to not wrestle with something new for a change, take a break and just enjoy his accomplishments, but as soon as he became skilled at something, another task of which he was ignorant sprouted like the weeds daring to emerge in the garden in Boston. He let a sigh escape at the thought. Did he really have to understand all this? Could he just once ignore it and let others handle it just this once?

Teresa touched his sleeve and smiled up at him. Scott marveled that at how someone could manage to look radiant with bits of entrails splattered over her apron.

"I know you'll figure it out. I believe in you, Scott."

So much for shirking. He had to learn now.

Scott applied himself to the study of livestock, querying the hands, and doing some research. Despite the lesson with the buxom Guernsey, he was embarrassed that he wasn't much past the days when his knowledge of cattle was limited to some were black, some red with white faces, some black and white, and some mostly reddish brown. He sought the references of Bakewell's writing on livestock, as father of animal husbandry, and began to learn more about breeding livestock for desired traits. He began writing to the new colleges and universities that were beginning to be more scientific in their approaches to agriculture. He discovered now the names of other different cattle breeds, how some had multiple purposes like Teresa said, but how and why some were specifically better for meat than milk. He understood more about their characteristics, what their advantages and disadvantages were for thriving in an area like the San Joaquin Valley. Not content with the living animals, he decided to find out if their looks would match their taste. He made use of his contacts locally and back east, to discover what the leading chefs from St. Louis to New York to Boston looked for in a fine piece of meat and what the cooks in California used in Mexican dishes.

Scott learned the lessons well enough that months later, he was entrusted to select a bull that would satisfy Murdoch Lancer.

Murdoch was indeed satisfied, and not just with the bull. His prompt from months ago had worked out just as he intended.


End file.
